The mist thickened as Jael advanced. Eventually he stumbled upon a place with shattered pillars carved with dragon sigils and walls scorched by battles long forgotten. The air vibrated with a resonance that was not merely qi but memory.
His Dragon King blood stirred even stronger as something—or rather someone—called out to him. He entered the palace, moving swiftly through its halls until he was lured to a chamber beneath the throne. The room was built from powerful spirit stones, a quality unseen in the lower realm, each slab humming with ancient resonance.
A low rumble shook the ground. From the mist, a colossal form emerged—a spectral dragon, its body woven from spirit sense and ancient qi. It circled him, vast wings stirring currents that rattled the chamber, before landing beside him with a weight that bent the air.
Its roar split the chamber like thunder, then plunged into Jael's spirit sea. His mind buckled under the weight, cracks spreading through his consciousness as visions surged—memories not his own, but etched into the marrow of his bloodline.
He saw this place in its glorious days. Those with the Verus Rex Sanguine (True King Bloodline), sovereigns of the Upper Realm, prosperous and unmatched. Their bloodlines commanded respect, their power so vast they could suppress other dragons into obedience—provided they were stronger.
For ages they ruled, until fear and envy united their enemies. Powerful factions from the Upper Realm conspired, and even dragon royals and nobles once loyal to the kings betrayed them. Together, they slaughtered the dragon king bloodlines out of malice and to free themselves from the bondage of being oppressed.
Those who remained loyal died alongside them here in this palace. Their descendants, cursed, were cast into the lower realms. The curse shackled their cultivation, preventing transcendence.
Jael trembled as the visions deepened. This time the vision revealed his true origin.
He saw his parents—not Jalen and Rana, but his true blood. His father, a mighty dragon of a realm Jael could not yet fathom, had scales dark and radiant, wings vast, and eyes burning gold. His mother, a princess of the royal ice dragon line, her form translucent blue, crystalline scales glowing with frost light, wings shimmering like living ice.
When the destruction of the Dragon King bloodline began, they escaped wounded from the Upper Realm, descending into the lower world. There they masked their true forms and cultivation, hiding among mountains and frozen valleys. For a time, they were safe. In secret they began a family. Jael's mother nursed three eggs, their nest warmed by flame and frost. Hope flickered—the fragile dream of survival, of a new life beyond betrayal.
But discovery came. Cultivators from above descended, drawn by the resonance of their bloodline. Jael's parents fought side by side, dragon and dragoness, their roars shaking continents, their clash threatening to tear the lower realm apart. Yet even together, their strength was not enough. The intruder's power eclipsed them, and the battle turned to tragedy.
Jael felt his father's body shatter beneath the assault and heard his mother's cry as she shielded the nest. He lived their desperation—the frantic clash, the refusal to yield, and the agony of knowing they could not prevail.
In the final moment, his mother acted. Frost light blazed from her wings as she tore open the currents of ice, casting one egg into safety. Jael. Her body fell soon after, her core ripped from her chest, brutally claimed as spoils. His father collapsed beside her, their sacrifice sealed in blood and defiance.
The vision shifted. He saw the egg borne away by frozen tides, hidden in the basin where fate would bring Jalen. He saw the Origin Shard binding to him, hatching him into the world.
Tears welled in Jael's eyes as the images seared through him. He did not merely witness their deaths—he carried their essence, their love, and their unyielding defiance. Their forms imprinted into his marrow, merging with his spirit sea, reforging his bloodline with the weight of their sacrifice.
Then came the final revelation: the progenitor of dragons—the Father of them all, the first Dragon King. From him every bloodline had descended, each woven from a shard of his core, bound forever to the sovereignty of his lineage. Jael and those of the Dragon King bloodline were not merely kin—they were his direct descendants.
The progenitor had long since passed from this world, slain in battle against a near‑peer existence in the Upper Realm. His fall shook the heavens, and though his foe triumphed, the victor could not claim the ultimate prize. Before the core could be stolen, another of the Dragon King bloodline seized it and carried it here, entombing it within the ruins in hope of rebirth.
With the core preserved, the dream of his return lingered. Yet hundreds of thousands of years slipped away, and no rebirth came. What none understood was the hidden truth: the first Dragon King could never rise again by his own will. His return required a worthy descendant—one who could endure his spirit sense, absorb his core, and become the new origin of all dragons.
As Jael endured the visions, centuries slipped away. The progenitor's essence merged with his own, spirit sense and core fusing into his marrow. The transformation that followed was greater than anything Dragon's Maw Ascension could achieve. His bloodline was reforged, elevated beyond its fractured state, and reshaped by the hand of its origin.
For 1,820 years Jael endured the crucible. His body broke and healed, his spirit sea expanded, and his qi deepened. He rose from the peak of Spirit Fusion to the Transcendent Realm. And when he transcended, every dragon in the lower realm felt it. Their scales quivered, their bloodlines trembled, for the roar of the Dragon King had returned.
But unlike Calen, Zakia, and Nate, Jael was not expelled when the merge with his ancestor's core ended. The progenitor's spirit sense kept him within the ruins, teaching him the bloodline techniques of his true lineage and the art of masking his aura permanently from the Upper Realm.
For though the Origin Shard already cloaked him, the stronger he grew, the louder his bloodline would resound. Even if the Upper Realm's cultivators could not find him, the traitors among the dragons would sense him. That was a truth even the Origin Shard could not suppress.
Jael was confused about this "origin orb," but apart from that, he understood everything else clearly.
The mist dissolved, leaving Jael kneeling in silence, scales faintly shimmering, aura masked yet vast. He was no longer merely heir of the Dragon Kings. He was their rebirth—the roar of sovereignty returned to the lower realm, hidden yet inevitable.